


Sick Puppy

by Tipsy_Kitty



Series: Puppy Verse [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Puppy Play, Sexual Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared gets sick. Jeff wonders what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Puppy

Jeff was not pleased with his newfound notoriety. Even though his face had been blacked out during the broadcast (and subsequent airings and re-airings), enough people in his life recognized either the sound of his voice, his p.e.t., or the nature of his training methods, and word of his exploits spread.

Some were disgusted or heartsick or enraged. His mother was no longer speaking to him, and his older brother would not take his calls. Others were envious of his p.e.t. and impressed with his training methods, which clearly produced results. The PET training center wanted to bring him in on a lucrative consulting contract. After the furor had died down, of course. Still, Jeff did not appreciate this kind of attention and he was in a foul mood most days.

The upside to this was Jeff stayed in most of the time and did not make Jared attend any more outings with other p.e.t.s and owners. Jared never again wanted to be subjected to a day at the races; his stomach still churned at the thought of the ponies struggling to move in their cumbersome get-ups, and of poor “Petunia,” swollen with water to resemble a pot-bellied pig just because it amused Charles.

Another upside was that Jeff’s little p.e.t.-breaking side project was put on hold for the time being. Jared didn’t even believe he was capable of feeling something like happiness anymore until he realized he would not be forced to hurt any more p.e.t.s, at least not for the foreseeable future.

On the other hand, Jeff continued to use Jared more ruthlessly than he ever had before in some misguided attempt to keep Jared from being wrenched away from him. Jeff had never exactly been gentle before, and certainly had never cared about Jared's pleasure (not until Mark taught Jeff that puppies don't get to decide anything). But he had also never been as rough as he was in the weeks after the newscast. His desperation caused him to ignore the advice he had given countless other p.e.t. owners. Jared was furiously fucked until he was hurt and torn, given no time to heal, and then fucked again.

Still, Jared was about as content as he could hope to be. He was uncomfortable, and he was often in pain, but he wasn't witnessing others being hurt, and he wasn’t hurting others. It was the most a worthless p.e.t. like him could hope for.

And because Jared was so docile and uncomplaining, Jeff didn't notice for some weeks that Jared was becoming more unwell each day.

As Jared began to feel more achy and lethargic, he sometimes wished he could see Jensen one more time. Not his family—especially not his older sister, not ever; though he missed them all terribly, the shame of what he’d done and what he’d become was too unbearable, and he hoped never to see them again. But Jensen still loved him and forgave him and was sweet to him, and Jared ached for that kindness. He reminded himself that puppies weren’t granted wishes though, so he tried to put Jensen out of his mind and absorb all the tenderness he could from Jeff.

 

 

One day in late spring, Jared hurt too badly to follow Jeff from room to room. His stomach hurt and his bottom hurt and he felt tired and cold and sweaty.

Jeff knelt in front of him and ran a hand across his clammy forehead. He walked away for a minute and returned with a thermometer. He pulled out Jared’s tail and paused to look at it, realizing it was spotted with blood. “Dammit,” he muttered as he pushed in the rectal thermometer. Jared yipped unhappily.

Jeff read the results and then re-inserted it to double-check.

"How long have you been feeling poorly, Pup?" Jeff asked, stroking Jared's flank.

Jared just looked at him.

"It’s okay Puppy, you can speak."

Jared hadn't been granted permission to talk since that first awful afternoon with Jeff, and his brain couldn’t even process the command. He closed his eyes instead and listened as Jeff made a phone call.

"What do you mean you can't send anyone?" Jeff barked into the phone. Jared blinked tiredly. He wished Jeff would be quiet. He just wanted to sleepsleepsleep.

"I was told the program provided at-home doctor visits—"

Cold chills rippled through Jared from his scalp to his toenails. He burrowed further into the blanket Jeff had settled over him.

Jeff sat down next to him and cradled Jared’s head in his lap. “They won’t send anybody,” he said as he stroked Jared’s sweaty hair. “Some stupid Human Rights group wants to monitor…” he trailed off. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

Jeff didn’t say anything for a long time and Jared was almost asleep when he said, “If I take you to the hospital, they’ll steal you away from me.”

He put another blanket over Jared and then retreated to his bedroom.

 

Jared tossed and turned all night, kicking off the covers when he was hot and then burrowing under them again when he was chilled. His throat was scratchy because he’d been too tired to crawl to his water dispenser all day.

Sometime just after dawn he started having dreams so vivid they might have been hallucinations. In one he found that his body was covered with soft chocolate-colored fur, and he realized he was finally turning into a real puppy. In another, Mark was biting him bloody and spitting chunks of Jared’s flesh into his kibble bowl with a cruel, red smile. And then Jensen was sitting next to him on a stone wall by a sunlit field, telling Jared to wake up. “You’re a very bad puppy if you keep dreaming,” Jensen said, and Jared didn’t want to be bad so he fought his way to consciousness, flailing against his blankets and moaning gibberish that brought Jeff running.

Jeff allowed Jared to lie on the couch that day, wrapped in blankets and using Piggy as a soft pillow. He took off Jared’s uncomfortable harness and sat with him for hours, giving him sips of water and aspirin and trying to get him to eat some fruit. He left Jared’s tail out and rubbed some kind of antibacterial ointment up inside of Jared to sooth his discomfort and fight off the infection. At one point Jared woke up from fever dreams and realized with horror that he’d been babbling in his sleep. He flinched away from Jeff and waited for the inevitable shock to come.

“It’s okay,” Jeff said, rubbing his hand in circles on Jared’s back. “Not your fault.”

Jared snuggled closer to Jeff, grateful that his owner was taking such good care of him.

At some point during the day he heard Jeff talking quietly, asking Mark if he knew of a discrete doctor willing to look at p.e.t.s with no questions asked. He didn’t seem to like the answer he was given.

 

 

By the third morning Jared hurt everywhere. His eyes were scratchy and his bones were achy and he felt like he was burning from the inside out. Jeff took his temperature again and frowned at the results. “Over 105,” he said. “Shit.”

Jeff paced and fretted and made phone calls while the fever burned the sweat right out of Jared’s body.

Jared tried to sleep as Jeff worried over whether to take him in. “They’ll take you away,” Jeff told him as he smoothed Jared’s soaked hair. “You don’t want that do you?”

Jared whimpered.

Jeff must have come to some sort of decision while Jared was drifting in and out of lucidity, because the next thing he knew, Jeff was bundling him up, blankets and all, and carrying him to the car. Jared clutched his stuffed pig in the crook of his arm and rested his head against Jeff’s scratchy cheek. Jeff laid him out in the back seat and Jared was almost asleep before Jeff had even backed the car out of the garage. Then an agonizing jolt of electricity coursed from the collar through every nerve in his body, and Jared woke up screaming.

“Dammit!” Jeff swore, pulling into the driveway again and using his cell phone to contact the PET Perimeter Coordinate Center.

 

 

Jared was lying on a gurney in the ER when a woman leaned over and looked into his eyes like he’d been a very bad puppy. Jared cringed away from her, turning to bury his head in Jeff’s chest.

“Jesus Christ, what’d you do to him?” the woman snapped, and Jared whimpered. I don’t know, he wanted to tell her. I’m sorry sorry.

“He has an infection,” Jeff said.

“I’ll bet he does,” she said harshly. “You think you’re the only dickhead who's brought in a p.e.t. with anal fissures and a raging bacterial infection? Get the hell out of my patient’s room right this minute.”

Jeff started to leave and Jared reached for him fearfully.

“Oh, for shit's sake,” the angry woman said. “Unlock those stupid paws right this minute or so help me…”

Jeff sounded chagrined. “The keys are at home.”

“Right. Well, now they’re coming off with scissors. Go. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Then Jeff was gone and Jared was alone with the angry woman, scared and shivering and wishing for his patch of sunlight. He tried to get off the gurney and follow Jeff but she pushed him back.

“Stay,” she said, looking sad now instead of angry.

Jared stayed. He did what he was told.

 

 

The angry woman—angry doctor, he guessed—seemed a little nicer once Jeff was gone. She set about removing his leather mitts with a sharp pair of scissors, cursing when his pale scrawny fingers were revealed. He cringed away from her again.

“No, I’m sorry, you haven’t done anything wrong,” she told him. “Jesus Christ...”

She turned away from him and told a different voice, “I need a forensic nurse and tech in here. Someone with a better bedside manner than me, please.”

Jared drifted away again, only peripherally aware of movement around him, of voices talking, of hands jostling him. The warm blanket was cut away from him and he hunched over on his side until gentle hands rolled him onto his back again. It hurt to be stretched out on the bed instead of curled up in a ball like usual. His muscles cried out and he whimpered. Voices drifted over him, disturbed, annoyed, efficient.

“—probably hasn’t worn clothes since—”

“—not sure he can even stand anymore—”

“—severely malnourished, and his muscles are –”

“—that asshole out front, acting like a worried boyfriend—”

Then a different voice spoke directly into his ear. “Can you tell me your name, sweetie?” she asked. She didn’t sound angry at all and he turned his face toward the lovely, soothing voice like a flower opening towards the sun.

He opened his eyes and blinked at her. She had the kindest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“What’s your name?”

He looked away again.

“My name is Lindsay, and all I want to do is to help you feel better.”

Jared shifted his body towards her, minutely.

"So, sweetie, will you tell me your name?"

Jared barked, twice.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” said the angry doctor.

 

 

Sometime later gentle hands rolled him from his back to his stomach, and he heard someone gasp.

“It’s the guy from the news, the one that was...”

“Was what?” said Angry Doctor, though now she sounded more harried and irritated than pissed.

“He’s the one that they made…you know—”

“I don’t know. Spell it out for me.”

“Jared,” Lindsay’s voice broke through. “They’re going to have to examine your rectum now. It might feel a little uncomfortable.”

Jared would have laughed if he still could.

"They had him..." the other voice again.

"For Christ's sake, are you or are you not a medical professional?” snapped Angry Doctor.

“He’s the one that they made have sex with the other one. The girl that couldn’t stop crying.”

Jared’s stomach knotted up and he curled up on his side again, hunching in on himself pitifully. If there had been any food in his system he would have thrown it up. Everyone knew. _Everyone knew._ He was evilbadwrong and the whole word knew it now, his mama knew it, and his sister…

Jared began panting shallowly, struggling for air.

"Get some O2, he's having a panic attack."

There was silence for awhile as oxygen was placed over his nose and mouth, cool and funny tasting, and Jared started to relax again.

“I don’t see how,” said another voice, a man. “That guy was built like a brick shithouse.”

“Well, obviously he’s lost some weight since then,” Angry Doctor said drily.

“How can you tell, anyway? He doesn’t look anything like—”

“How many p.e.t.s do you think are running around with a tattoo on their back of Daffy Duck dressed up like Robin Hood?”

Right, Jared had almost forgotten that was there. He’d had it since he was 18 and he never even thought about it anymore.

“Jared?” it was Lindsay again. He blinked up at her. “I know it’s hard for you to talk, but we really need your help. People are worried about the other p.e.t.s that were on the news. Can you tell us anything about them?”

Jared opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“You’re being so brave, Jared. We just need you to do this one last thing and then you can go to sleep.”

He didn’t think she meant forever, though that sounded kind of nice. He touched the silver collar welded to his neck, marveling at the feel of cool steel under his fingertips, and he thought about how brave Jensen had been, and how Mark was probably making him suffer now. How Mark could probably kill him and nobody would fuss about it much.

He cleared his throat. It hurt terribly, he was so dehydrated.

“Jensen,” he whispered. His voice was gravel.

“Jensen,” Lindsay repeated. “Is that the girl you were…with?”

Jared shook his head.

“So it was the man?”

Jared nodded and tried to speak again.

“Jensen. Mark. Jensen. Mark.”

“Jensen Marks?” Lindsay asked. Jared shook his head.

“Mark owns him.” Jared squeezed his eyes shut. “Please help him.” He buried his face in Piggy then, and he slept.

 

 

His name was Keith, according to the badge around his neck, and he seemed to take it as a personal affront that Jared was one of his patients.

Usually when nurses and techs came into his room Jared would close his eyes and pretend to sleep. He was very good at hearing stealthy steps coming up behind him, knew when to brace himself for unwanted touches or attention or pain. The hospital was no different. They would take his blood and give him pills and he would pretend to be out of it the whole time. Everybody preferred it that way, nobody wanted to talk to the freak that had been splashed all over the news. Everybody cringed when he answered their questions with barks.

On his third day though, he forgot to close his eyes and hide. He was so intent on watching a spider spin a web in the upper-right corner of his window that he did not shut down and pretend to be sleeping.

"You're the one everyone's talking about," Keith said.

Jared curled into himself further but did not close his eyes. He shifted up just a little so he could keep the spider in sight over Keith’s shoulder. The little guy had been at it for hours. He was moving methodically from strand to strand, legs working busily to build his web. He was beautiful. He had more purpose and determination than Jared could ever remember having.

"Everyone keeps tiptoeing around you like you're some kind of war hero," Keith continued, crossing his arms over his turquoise scrubs.

"I think you're a fucking criminal who probably got what he deserved."

The tech narrowed his eyes as he took in Jared's skinny frame and pale complexion.

"You don't look like much to me," he said. "But they're all saying you got more tail than some of the p.e.t. owners."

Jared rolled over, sad that he wouldn’t watch the web being completed, and closed his eyes. He hoped Keith would either go away or kill him. He’d heard that a syringe full of air could do the trick pretty quickly.

 

 

It seemed that nobody knew what to do with Jared. Lindsay still came to visit him, and she kept him informed about what was going on.

“I guess the hospital won’t release you back to Jeff—they won’t even let him in the building—but you can’t stay here either,” Lindsay said. “They’ve finished your IV antibiotics and there’s no real reason to keep you admitted.”

Jared was nervous that he might not be returned to Jeff; servicing Jeff and his friends was all he knew now. What if they sent him to jail where he’d be used by everybody? What if they sent him back to his family? He’d rather die.

His eyes welled up with tears and she stroked his hair gently. “I have a friend who runs a sort of p.e.t. halfway house,” Lindsay said. “Let me see what I can do. Maybe we can find a place for you there.”

That sounded as scary to Jared as any of the other alternatives. Why didn’t they just let him die? Why hadn’t Jeff? He’d been so close that last day at Jeff’s, he knew it.

Jared found sleep hard to come by that evening. Sleep had been his only escape for so many months, long naps on Jeff’s floor in his little patch of sunlight, or curled up at Jeff’s feet while he watched TV. He hadn’t had to worry about his future in so long, nothing beyond his next meal or his next order from Jeff, and the worry and anxiety left him thrashing about in his bed, scared and sad and missing his owner fiercely.

He was still tossing and turning long after midnight, in the dim glow from the bedside lamp, when his door creaked open behind him.

It was Keith, and when he ordered Jared to suck him off, Jared slid smoothly onto the floor and obediently opened his mouth.


End file.
